


crowds gather for a pretty blaze, but it's a small sideshow

by a_novel_idea



Series: we need not be let alone [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: AU - FixIt, Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Books, Crimson Typhoon - Freeform, F/M, Gypsy Danger - Freeform, Hong Kong, Humor, Jaegers, Kaiju, Kid Fic, Kids, M/M, Mechanics, Saving the World, Striker Eureka - Freeform, Черно Альфа | Cherno Alpha - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_novel_idea/pseuds/a_novel_idea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Don’t look at me like that,” Chuck sneers. “You shouldn’t even be out of the damn bed.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Probably not,” Raleigh agrees.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Then why the fuck are you?” Chuck demands, stopping the wheelchair outside of Raleigh’s bunk room. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Can’t do this in medical,” Raleigh says, hoisting himself out of the chair. He wobbles just enough for Chuck to be concerned before leveling out.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The kiss is nothing like the few they’d shared in medical; there is no caution here, no worry, no hesitation. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	crowds gather for a pretty blaze, but it's a small sideshow

On day one, the Breach is closed.

It’s a miracle, and has been named as such by the press. They are not without loss or injury, but the loss is not applied to Ranger or civilian. Striker Eureka was abandoned for the sake of detonating the payload, and Cherno Alpha, while not completely destroyed, was damaged enough to be left in peace at the bottom of the Pacific. Crimson Typhoon lost its third arm, and most of its armor, but carried both the Kaidonovskys and the Hansens back to shore. Gypsy Danger was lost in the currents for eighty-seven minutes before resurfacing in the Hong Kong harbor; while her oxygen supply and motor capabilities held out, her communications systems did not, and it was only at Chuck’s insistence that they wait twenty-four hours before declaring her and her pilots lost to the Breach that kept Marshall Pentecost from making the announcement.

Hercules and Chuck Hansen both suffer from major bruising and minor concussions, with an added bit of fractured radius and ulna for Herc. Chuck teases his father as the medical team checks them both out, and all Herc can do is grin like an idiot and give his son shit as he takes it. Both of Aleksis Kaidonovsky’s legs are broken, and the doctors have to shave a patch of hair on the back of his head in order to stitch a wound closed; Sasha, on the other hand, breaks her left wrist, and suffers from minor and non-life threatening radiation burns on her calves and thighs. Hu Wei loses the pinky finger on his right hand, and suffers from no other wound. Cheung Wei’s left side is shredded by shrapnel, and the medics that meet them in the Jaeger hangar rush him into surgery. His gallbladder has to be taken, and there is a piece of metal the doctors all agree would be too risky to try to remove, so it is left just under his ribs, inches away from his lung; the triplet will forever walk around with a piece of Crimson Typhoon inside of him. Jin Wei’s right arm is patterned by electrical burns that mimic the wiring inside his suit caused by the loss of Crimson’s arm. Everyone agrees that the scars will resemble Raleigh’s. Mako has two black eyes and two breaks in her right arm; she’ll spend six to eight weeks in a cast, followed by months of physical therapy.

Raleigh is the least lucky of the bunch. His nose is broken, along with his right clavicle and humerus. His right lung is damaged, and so are three ribs; had the steel rod that pierced through his suit gone a mere inch toward the center of his chest, his lung, and most likely his heart, would have been punctured, and he would have suffocated before he and Mako even had the chance to make land. It takes three doctors, eight nurses, twelve hours, and the constant prayer of the entire Shatterdome to keep him alive. His vitals level out at three o’clock in the morning on day two.

***

On day four, Raleigh wakes up to the feeling of oxygen pumping into his lungs by way of nasal tubes, and the sounds of steady beeping and of Avis reading out loud. He lets her continue uninterrupted for a few moments as he takes stock of his body, slowly feeling his way down to discover what is injured and what is not. When he comes to the conclusion that not much hurts, he figures that he’s on the good pain killers and is most likely pretty damaged. Avis breaks through is self-discovery when she reads,

“He lay far across the room from her, on a winter island separated by an empty sea. She talked to him for what seemed like a long while and she talked about this and she talked about that and it was only words, like the words he had heard once at a friend’s house, a two-year-old child building word patterns, talking jargon, making pretty sounds in the air. But Montag said nothing and after a long while when he only made the small sounds, he felt her move in the room and come to his bed and stand over him and put her hand down to feel his cheek. He knew that when she pulled her hand away from his face it was wet.” (1)  


Avis pauses and seems to take in what her mind has just passed over, probably wondering why the passage is underlined in that battered, old paperback.

“That’s a good book,” Raleigh says, and his voice is scratchy from misuse; he must have been out longer than he thought.

Avis startles so badly she drops the book to the floor and freezes, looking at him as if he is some miracle divine. As soon as the look vanishes from her face, she dives into his side, luckily his left and least injured chunk of torso. She starts bawling as she clings to the hospital gown he’s been dressed in, and Raleigh has enough sense to press the call button by his bed before coaxing Avis onto the mattress beside him. She wraps her arms the best she can around his torso, expertly avoiding the soft cast and stitches that make up most of his right side. Raleigh pets her head with his good hand while he waits for a nurse to show her face.

They don’t have to wait much longer before a doctor, not a nurse, pops into Raleigh’s room. She’s tiny and blonde, and Raleigh knows exactly what kind of spitfire she can be when she’s angry or frustrated; she’d dated Yancy in Anchorage, before, well, before.

“Tegan Quinn,” Raleigh says quietly. Avis has reduced herself to sniffling every once in a while.

“Raleigh Becket,” the doctor greets. “I do believe the last time you were this beat up we were still in Anchorage. What the fuck happened?”

Raleigh laughs, choking on what feels like dust in his throat, and regrets it. He’s glad that she seems to be the same Dr. Quinn that whacked him and his brother over the head whenever they got into a bar fight, but his ribs send a jolt though his side, and he decides it isn’t so funny.

“Idiot,” she says.

“Shut it,” Avis sneers from Raleigh’s side. “Leave ‘im ‘lone.”

“Go on, princess,” Quinn says, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Go get your Ducky.”

Avis wipes her nose on the sleeve of her Striker Eureka jumpsuit and shoots the doctor a terrifying look, for an eight-year-old at least.

“Avis,” Raleigh says. “Can you go get Chuck? The Marshall, too?”

Avis nods and starts to slide down off the bed, but not before kissing Raleigh on the cheek and whispering, “’m glad ya came back, R’leigh.”

As she passes behind Dr. Quinn, Avis sticks her tongue out at the back of the woman’s head, but Raleigh doesn’t have the strength or the will to scold her. When he’s positive she’s out of the room and down the hall, Raleigh coughs,

“So how bad is it?”

“You’ve lived through worse,” she comments. “You have a broken nose, two black eyes, broken clavicle, broken humerus, three broken ribs, a damaged lung that you didn’t quite manage to puncture, you lost an unbelievable amount of blood considering you walked in with very little support, but you managed to avoid radiation poisoning. The dry throat feeling is from an intubation tube.”

“Oh, that’s good news,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t you sass me, Becket,” Quinn says. “I am not above cutting your morphine supply.”

Raleigh is gathering his breath to snark back, which usually becomes a constant the longer he stays on heavy medications, when the Marshall strides in with Herc, Chuck, and Avis following. Herc and Chuck look beat to shit, but they’re both walking without any kind of aide, so Raleigh assumes they must not be doing as badly as he is. Avis leaves Chuck’s side and climbs back into bed with Raleigh.

“Good morning, Ranger Becket,” the Marshall says with a slight up curve of joy in his tone. Raleigh finds it sort of disturbing. “You seem to have missed the excitement.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Seems our friends at the UN have decided that the Jaeger program is worth something after all, what with the destruction of the Breach.”

“So it’s closed? Gone?” Raleigh asks.

“That is correct, Ranger Becket. The Breach has been sealed.”

A knot Raleigh didn’t know existed in his chest loosens with the final confirmation that their world has been sealed off from the Kaiju and their masters. He finds it easier to breath, even with a damaged lung and the help of an oxygen tank.

“As such,” Marshall Pentecost continues, “The program has been awarded new funding for the continuance of neural Drift research and Kaiju science. I expect you’ll stick around?”

The Marshall gives Raleigh a frighteningly predatory smile and marches from the room without awaiting a reply.

“It’s good t’ see you awake, Becket,” Herc says. “None of us have had a proper meal or a good night’s sleep since us lot came back, especially these two.”

Chuck makes a noise of disgust at his father, as if he had done no such thing like worry about whether or not Raleigh Becket was going to make it through the night.

“Avis,” he says. “Go with Grandpa Herc and get some lunch.”

Herc smirks at his son, and Avis complains,

“R’leigh jus’ woke up!”

“And you haven’t had a good night’s sleep or a decent meal in days. I bet if you ask nicely, Dr. Quinn will even let you kip in here with Raleigh after you eat.”

Avis glances over sharply at the doctor, as if daring the woman to keep her from Raleigh at a time like this.

“You have to eat a vegetable,” Dr. Quinn says. “Hercules has to see you eat a whole helping.”

Raleigh is impressed by the double team Quinn and Chuck have working. Avis’s lips turn down in a frown, but she slides off of the bed again and promises to be back as soon as she and Herc have had lunch.

“Doc,” Chuck says.

“Oh, no, Hansen,” she says, making for the door. “This is all you.”

Chuck is on him before the door latches closed, thunder in his eyes.

“You bloody jackass,” he hisses. “What kind of bloody pilot strands himself on the bottom of the goddamn ocean? The rest of us thought you and Mako were fucking dead!”

Raleigh doesn’t remember much, memory clouded by pain and the overwhelming sensation of Mako trying to pull him out of his own RABIT, and he can’t be sure that what Chuck is saying isn’t true. The Aussie continues to bark at him, though he doesn’t raise his voice, and that almost makes his words more vicious. Chuck pauses to rub at the bruises on his face, wincing when he touches a particularly sore spot.

“C’mere,” Raleigh says, crooking the fingers of his good hand at Chuck. The younger man follows the instruction, but the dark look on his face doesn’t fade. When he steps up to the bed, Raleigh tugs on the hem of Chuck’s t-shirt until the other bats his hand away and Raleigh is able to catch his fingers. Chuck doesn’t pull away, and scrunches his nose when Raleigh continues to hold his hand.

“You break anything?” Raleigh rasps.

“Just bruised,” Chuck mutters.

***

When Avis and Herc return to Raleigh’s room, Chuck has taken over the chair by his bed, leaning back with his feet thrown up next to Raleigh’s. There hasn’t been much conversation, mostly Raleigh looking over at

Chuck every few minutes with an idiot’s smile curving his mouth; he blames the ungodly amounts of morphine Quinn must be pumping into his system.

Raleigh is hazy, barely able to string a few words together now that he’s awake and able to tolerate more painkillers, but he shifts what he can to make room for Avis. She climbs over Chuck’s legs and plants herself at Raleigh’s side, kicking off her boots in the process. She squirms for a moment, then settles and almost immediately drops off into a doze, using his good shoulder for a pillow. Chuck looks relieved, like he actually did spend the last four days worrying over them both. Herc watches his son.

“So,” Herc finally says, quietly now that Avis is asleep. “How long you going to be in here?”

Raleigh raises his hand, trying to make an effort not to disturb Avis, in a poor imitation of a shrug. Herc chuckles, looks over his kid and his grandkid and Raleigh and shakes his head. Raleigh smiles at him.

“How about you sleep, and I go find out, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Raleigh slurs.

Chuck slides out of his char to join his father in the hall. They match strides, and head in the direction of the one and only nurse’s station. Herc bumps into Chuck with his shoulder, and Chuck bumps back.

***

Days five, six, and seven are full of visitors and spontaneous naps. Mako is the first to visit, and she sets up her work station on the opposite side of Raleigh from Chuck. She’s in civilian clothes, a pair of jeans and a not-really-but-looks-like-it vintage Gypsy Danger t-shirt, and her hair has been pushed out of her face with a headband. Her right arm has been casted, and it seems that she somehow managed to coerce or convince whichever nurse attended her to dye the plaster neon blue. Raleigh thinks the color suits her.

Just like Mako seems she’ll be making her post semi-permanent, Chuck hasn’t made a bid for freedom either; he's only left for sleep and to tend to Avis, who has been told, under no uncertain terms, that just because the world is going to keep spinning does not mean she can skip out on her studies, and what kind of question is that anyway? Hu, Cheung, and Jin visit, and Hu tries to slip him a pack of cigarettes, but Mako catches him. He gracefully takes a spot in the corner and doesn’t move any closer until Raleigh begins to slip into a morphine addled haze.

The Kaidonovskys visit, too; Aleksis wheels himself in with Sasha following. Mako confiscates the bottles of celebration vodka they bring.

***

Day eight isn’t a pleasant time in the Shatterdome’s medical ward. Dr. Quinn cuts Raleigh’s medication doses nearly in half, to avoid the risk of addiction, she says, but the sudden onset of pain has the pilot on edge. His attitude plummets while his irritability rises; Chuck and Mako pack up on day nine and tell Raleigh that they will be back when he is no longer so volatile. Mako leaves the pack of cigarettes Hu brought within Raleigh’s reach. When he and the doctor start to argue about it, the Shatterdome becomes a surprisingly injury-free place. No one wants to be near Raleigh and Quinn while they argue.

“I – ”

“No.”

“But – ”

“No.”

“I just – ”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No is my goddamn final answer, Raleigh.”

“Yes.”

“ _Fucking no!_ I swear to god, Becket, I’m not signing your release papers! You’ve got three busted ribs and a broken clavicle! You are in no shape to be traipsing the halls of the Shatterdome or canoodling with your boyfriend!”

“That’s not – ”

“The fuck it isn’t! I know exactly how you Becket boys operate! The answer is NO!”

***

On the eleventh day, Quinn assigns Raleigh a wheelchair, gives him a set of instructions that he’ll ignore, and orders him out of her sight. Raleigh goes happily, though the same can’t be said of the sour look Chuck follows him around with. It’s difficult to navigate the halls with only one arm to propel himself, and Raleigh thinks he’s just getting the hang of it when Chuck grabs the handles and starts pushing. Raleigh tips his head back and smiles at the younger Hansen.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Chuck sneers. “You shouldn’t even be out of the damn bed.”

“Probably not,” Raleigh agrees.

“Then why the fuck are you?” Chuck demands, stopping the wheelchair outside of Raleigh’s bunk room.

“Can’t do this in medical,” Raleigh says, hoisting himself out of the chair. He wobbles just enough for Chuck to be concerned before leveling out.

The kiss is nothing like the few they’d shared in medical; there is no caution here, no worry, no hesitation. Raleigh slips his good hand under Chuck’s shirt, thumbs at the muscle he knows is there, and bites at Chuck’s lip. Chuck himself is not unenthusiastic; he doesn’t pull away, and the grip he has on Raleigh promises to leave more bruises, but he is very aware that the Raleigh Becket that is holding him is by no means a whole man. He has pieces missing, and Chuck finds himself okay with that.

A tiny throat clears when Raleigh slides his hand around to Chuck’s back. The Aussie is slow to pull away, lingering over Raleigh’s lips, but when he does, he’s gone red from the tips of his ears to the tops of his shoulders. Raleigh glances around Chuck to find Avis glaring at them both, small hands propped on small hips.

“Morning, Avis,” Raleigh says.

“Bed em’ty,” she says, and just by the tone of her voice Chuck can tell she’s fuming mad. “No note, both of ya gone! YOU COULD HAVE DIED!! Bu’ did ya care? No; you jus’ wait ‘til Grandpa Herc ge’s back an’ ‘ears about this!”

“Were you worried?” Raleigh asks. Chuck spins out of his grip and stares down at Avis.

“Did you just quote _Harry Potter_ at me?”

“What?” Raleigh says.

“So?” Avis asks. “Got mah point across, di’n’t it?”

***

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with both of you,” Chuck says over lunch.

Raleigh’s pushing his food around on his tray and Avis is poking at her carrots. Neither of them have had much of an appetite, Raleigh because of the pain and Avis because Chuck refuses to let her survive off of jello alone.

“I’s too late t’ get rid of us,” Avis says. “Ya hav’ t’ keep us.”

Chuck can see Raleigh look over at him in the corner of his eye.

“That had been the plan, sweetheart,” he says.

Raleigh smiles.

***

Day fifteen greets Raleigh like a punch in the gut. His muscles are tight and he can’t breathe without jarring something, anything, and even the bits of flesh that are still present and accounted for feel like one large, festering sore. He stays in his bunk room, locks the door, and cuts the overhead lights so that the only thing illuminating the space is his desk lamp. He shuffles back onto the so-so mattress provided by the Shatterdome, and settles in to ride out the pain and the desperation looming on the edges of his mind.

Raleigh doesn’t know if he goes to sleep, or passes out from the pain.

***  


Someone knocks on the door hours later, light but firm, and it just barely rouses Raleigh back to consciousness. He’s soaked through with sweat and when he manages to sit up he realizes he’s split the stitches in his side. There isn’t much blood, but he’ll probably need to see Dr. Quinn just in case. The thought leads him away and he forgets that something had woken him up at all until the heavy steel door on the other side of the room pushes open. His first thought is for Yancy, but it retreats as quickly as it formed, because he knows it’s Mako, can feel her in the space in his head that Yancy left blank.

She tsks at him and closes the door as quickly as she had opened it, shielding him from the rest of the world, and the rest of the world from him. She’s wearing her Ranger’s uniform, Gypsy Danger’s patch just as new and as pristine as when it was first issued. She moves through his room with a familiarity that mirrors his own; she doesn’t hesitate to fetch a damp rag from the conjoining bathroom and join him on the bed.

The back of Mako’s hand is cool when she tests his temperature, and the rag is like ice when she lifts his shirt to examine his wounds and blot away the blood. He hisses through his teeth, and she tells him not to be such a baby, and for just a moment it’s Yancy cleaning him up not Mako, but the memory fades before he can foolishly act on it.

“You are worrying us,” she murmurs as she wipes the sweat away. “Chuck and Avis are determined not to bother you, but Sasha and Aleksis, and the triplets have no such worry. It could have easily been them instead of me.”

“Thanks for beating them here,” he says, relieved that it hadn’t been anyone else.

“I am the only one who knows the passcode,” she shrugs.

Raleigh huffs in laughter the best he can.

“But next time,” she warns him, “I will let one of them come, and they will not be so nice.”

***

Dr. Quinn gives him two Vicodin, and tells him that he’s supposed to be taking it fucking easy, not climbing his goddamn boyfriend like a fucking jungle gym, never mind that Raleigh has done no such thing. He takes the verbal lashing, because he knows he deserves it, and lets Mako wheel him back out of the ward. Once they’re both in the hall and away from the terrifying gaze of Quinn and her lackeys/nurses, Mako pats him on the cheek and gives him directions to Chuck’s quarters, and though Raleigh’s pretty sure he doesn’t need the reminder, he takes the hint.

Chuck’s door is open and Max is laying half in half out of the room, rolls of skin spilling over both sides of the frame. He wuffs, but doesn’t do any more than turn his nose in the Ranger’s direction as Raleigh steps over him. Chuck’s laying on his bunk, barefoot and comfortable looking in sweatpants and a faded t-shirt. He’s propped up against the wall, completely focused on the book in his hands.

“Hey,” Raleigh says quietly, leaning gently against the bed frame.

Chuck whips his head up quickly, clearly unaware of his company, but the look of sheer panic that crosses his face alarms Raleigh. He looks over to the corner that Avis has quarantined as her own, and now that Raleigh is closer he can see the single foot sticking out from the mess and tangle of blankets. When Chuck snaps his fingers to grab his attention, Avis’s foot twitches.  


“Be quiet,” Chuck whispers. “I just got her to bloody sleep. You wake her up and you can deal with her.”

Raleigh throws his good hand up in a placating motion and shuffles a little further into the room. Chuck rolls his eyes at the older man’s antics, but kicks aside his own sheets to remove what possible obstacles Raleigh could encounter while clambering onto the bed.

“What are you reading?” he asks after he shuffles himself into place.

Chuck flips the book around to show him the cover and Raleigh groans.

“You never told me it was your brother’s book,” Chuck says quietly, thumbing the edges of the paper.

Raleigh forgets sometimes that it was Yancy’s. His name is practically carved into the first three pages, a telltale sign of tracing and retracing faded pencil marks. It’s been such a staple in his life, a constant reminder, an anchor, he doesn’t always remember that it was his brother who bought it. He remembers picking it off the shelf, counting out the change, shrugging teenage shoulders at the sales clerk when he pays in nickels, and dimes, and quarters, but he knows it’s a fragment of something that was left behind.

Chuck bats him softly with the book, just enough of a tap to pull him from his Yancy’s memory. He smiles, and it’s a bitter, vile tasting smile that is more grimace than anything else.

“You also never told me that you’re a right bloody sap,” Chuck whispers, a tease tilting off the end of his sentence.

Raleigh feels his brow crease, because he has no idea what…

Chuck holds up the note Raleigh stashed in the pages before they made their final decent on the Breach. It isn’t especially long, or romantic, or sappy, but it is honest, and mostly Raleigh thinks Chuck appreciates that more than anything else he could have put down. He tries to take it from the younger’s hand, but he can barely pull his right arm above his head, never mind reach across to take something from an admittedly more mobile man. Chuck pulls it out of reach, folding it back up and slipping it into his pocket.

“I think I’ll hang onto it,” he says.

“Who’s the bloody sap now?” Raleigh asks, smile tugging at the bruises on his face.

“It’s still you, mate.”

Chuck hooks his ankle around Raleigh’s and kisses him on the mouth.

***

Raleigh’s woken up in the middle of the night.

He’s still in Chuck’s bed, his bad side nestled against the wall. Chuck’s tangled their legs together, and has mashed himself into Raleigh’s right side; he can’t say he would have pegged Chuck as a cuddler, but he pegged Chuck as a cuddler. Not that he spent too much time thinking about it.

Just over Chuck’s shoulder, Avis is standing in the middle of the room. She’s in pajamas patterned with ducks and is slowly inching her way towards them. It’s kind of cute, Raleigh thinks, but also creepy. She shifts back and forth on her feet, like she’s trying to make a decision, so Raleigh finally says,

“Are you coming up?”

Avis startles like she hadn’t known either of them had been awake, but she whispers back, “Ducky said I cannae keep sleepin’ wif him.”

“I don’t think Ducky will mind.”

Avis looks between them before slowly inching onto the mattress. She climbs over Chuck, who grunts but doesn’t wake when she puts a hand in his stomach, and wedges herself into the non-existent void between the two men. She throws her arm around Chuck’s waist, settles in, and drops right off to sleep.

It isn’t long before Raleigh follows her.

***

On day eighteen, Raleigh and Herc are in the commissary; there isn’t another Ranger to be found, though plenty of technicians and scientists are still around. It surprised Raleigh that most of the men and women involved in the Jaeger program are still here, maybe even be sticking around. The focus will change, surely, what with giant fighting robots no longer needed to defend cities, but he can’t imagine a Shatterdome’s worth of people willing to give up a return to a semi-normal life now that it’s all over.

Raleigh pushes his food around, trying to find a will to eat when he knows he’ll just throw it up again in a few hours.

“You know Chuck’s my only kid, right,” Herc says into the quiet.

“Yeah,” Raleigh drawls, surprised by the comment.

“You know I wouldn’t have a problem hiding a body in all the wreckage left in Hong Kong.”

The tops of Raleigh’s ears turn red because he knows exactly which conversation this is.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Keep that in mind.”

***

On day twenty-three, Dr. Quinn removes the stitches from Raleigh’s side. He’s still not allowed a large range of movement due to his broken collarbone, but at least he feels like he can breathe.

On day twenty-five, Newt Geiszler and his don’t-call-me-his-boyfriend boyfriend, Hannibal Chau, arrive and spirit Avis away for a few days of relaxation and celebration. Chuck makes them swear on what’s left of Gypsy Danger that they won’t leave the continent.

On day twenty-nine, they get word from Germany that Dr. Hermann Gottlieb’s expecting wife has given birth to a girl. She’s eleven inches long and 8 pounds 5 ounces. They name her Winifred.

One day thirty-two, they get pictures.

On day thirty-five, Raleigh and Mako agree to take part in the Drift research project the PPDC is now being funded for. Dr. Gottlieb and Newt are supervising.

On day thirty-six, Newt and Hannibal return Avis. She’s sporting purple and olive green streaks in her hair, respectively, and Chuck isn’t as livid as he thought he’d be.

On day forty-one, Herc insists on swapping bunk rooms with Raleigh because he’s sick of them taking turns walking the walk of the not-so-unashamed. He agrees to take Avis for a few nights out of the week.

***

On day forty-four,

_“Shit,”_ Tendo breathes.

He’s passing through the offices the Shatterdome has made out of a few of the cramped quarters, specifically those assigned to the scientists and research staff flooding in to take part in the Gottlieb-Geiszler Neural Drift Project. It isn’t any one thing or another that catches his eye, or sparks the memory until he’s suddenly looking the man in the face. The person escorting him is a junior level paper pusher that Tendo doesn’t know the name of, but who is being far too accommodating for this weed that keeps coming back.

_“Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.”_

***

Marshall Pentecost and Hercules Hansen are in the middle of discussing something that’s probably important when Tendo opens the door without knocking. The Marshall rises out of his chair, not because he intends to chastise Tendo, but because he knows that if Tendo is forgoing formality something is wrong.

“We have a problem,” Tendo says quickly. “A really big problem.”

“Did someone try and touch Dr. Geiszler’s Kaiju guts again?” Herc asks, but before he’s fully formed the sentence Tendo is shaking his head.

“Raleigh’s father is here.”

All Herc can do is say, _“Fuck.”_

***

Marshall Pentecost sends Herc and Tendo to find Raleigh, then he calls Mako. The four of them together have a hope of heading the man and his escort off, but it’s a small hope, what with all the ground they have to cover. Herc checks the most likely places Raleigh would be, which means he also checks the places his son would most likely be. He doesn’t turn up with anything. Tendo checks the areas where neither Raleigh nor Chuck should be; it’s an actual strategy that has been fruitful in the past. Tendo comes away empty as well.

Mako makes an announcement over the Shatterdome’s intercom.

***

_“Charles Hansen report to medical. Charles Hansen report to medical.”_

The order erupts over the loudspeaker just as Chuck throws the tennis ball for Max. The English bulldog takes off down the corridor and rounds the corner as the ball strikes a steam pipe set in the wall and bounces away. Raleigh, sitting on the steps of an unassigned bunk room with a book in his lap, looks up at Chuck with his eyebrow raised.

“Was that Mako?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Chuck says, “and she only calls me by my first name when something’s wrong.”

The Aussie calls Max back around the corner and when the fat animal waddles over, he takes the ball and puts it in his pocket. Max whines.

“C’mon,” Chuck says, offering Raleigh his hand. “Let’s get to medical and see what’s ending the world this time.”

"That isn’t funny,” Raleigh says. He takes Chuck’s hand, and lets the other man pull him to his feet, and there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Is too,” Chuck says.

***

Mako is pacing in front of the nurse’s station when Chuck pushes the door open to admit both him and a still partially immobile Raleigh. She doesn’t stop pacing, even though she sees them, until Raleigh steps into her path and envelops her with is left arm. She snakes her arms around his waist and rests her head on his chest.

“What’s happening, Mako?” Chuck asks.

She takes a deep breath and says very quietly to Raleigh,

“Your father is here.”

It’s alarming, the way Raleigh’s demeanor changes. It’s darks and it’s brooding, and not at all nice. He fists his hand in the back of Mako’s shirt, pulls her closer, and rests his chin on her head. Chuck’s actually surprised that it worries him; he isn’t used to it, never thought he’d have to get used to it. Who was there to worry about? His dad? His father is the most capable man on the face of the earth, but now he has Raleigh, and the closer they get, the farther the walls fall.

“Raleigh,” he says lowly, but with perfect timing the double doors behind them push open to admit the Marshall and Herc.

“Where’s the doctor?” Pentecost asks.

“Dr. Quinn is making her nurses aware of the situation,” Mako says, “but not too aware.”

“Good. Mr. Becket,” Raleigh glances over at the Marshall. “How do you fancy a trip inland?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, and the shock is clear on everyone’s face, but Chuck’s; he still has no idea what’s going on, and he’s doing his best not to ask questions.

“Raleigh,” Mako says, “you do not have to –”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupts. “If I don’t face him now, then when? I can’t spend the rest of my life living with the possibility that he’ll show up at any minute.”

The Marshall sighs, and Chuck wonders if the look on Raleigh’s face is what his own stubborn expression looks like.

“Fine,” Marshall Pentecost says, and Mako and Herc both open their mouths to argue, but the other man barrels on. “Today and never again. But you won’t do it alone.”

Raleigh nods.

***

“Make sure Tendo has Avis distracted; the last thing we need is to poison her as well,” Pentecost says to Herc as they exit the medical ward. “And bring him to me first.”

“You know you can’t punch him, Stacker,” the other man says wisely. “Even as much as the bastard deserves it.”

“I won’t sully the uniform,” he agrees. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t knock his teeth in his he swings first.”

“Fair enough.”

***

“You need to take a deep breath,” Chuck says into Raleigh’s ear.

The American has been crowded into the corner of an empty exam room, boxed in by Chuck and the height the younger man has on him. They’re alone; Mako and Dr. Quinn have elected to watch the lobby. Chuck puts his hands on Raleigh’s hips, slides one under the blonde’s shirt up to his waist and fingers the fresh pink scar still forming on his rib cage. Raleigh’s breathing is calm, if a little shallow, but Chuck can see the panic on the other Ranger’s face bleeding through his mask of sane and peaceful.

“C’mon,” Chuck urges. “I know you busted a few ribs, but they didn’t puncture a lung: deep breath.”

Raleigh obeys.

“Better?” Chuck asks, and Raleigh’s answer is to tug him forward and kiss him on the mouth.

“My dad,” Raleigh starts.

“I’m not asking for an explanation, Becket,” Chuck growls. “Just want to make sure you keep breathing.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m telling you.”

Chuck blinks, but doesn’t have anything to say.

“My dad,” Raleigh says again, “is not a nice guy.”

***

The Marshall is pouring over the files on his desk when Herc escorts the man in. He’s tall, blonde, and a bottle full of asshole, just like the last time Pentecost had the misfortune of an encounter like this. He doesn’t look up at him, makes him wait, plays the patient game; Herc is an unmovable sentry at his back. They wait, because this man always breaks first, and breaks fast.

“What the hell’s this about?”

If he had wanted, the Marshall could have timed it to the second.

“You broke his nose,” Pentecost says quietly. “Both of his arms, his right collar bone, eleven ribs, his left leg, and shattered his left kneecap. You have bruised internal organs, and caused one to rupture. Nineteen injuries, severe and life threatening, over the span of twelve years.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You watch your mouth,” Herc barks, “and show a little goddamn respect.”

“Raleigh Becket,” Pentecost says before the man can respond to Herc, “is one of my best Rangers. He’s a good man, and he has a family. That family does not include you.”  


The Marshall watches as the other man bares his teeth in what isn’t really a proper snarl.

“After today, should you come within a mile of Ranger Becket or his family, the PPDC, UN, and the majority of European and Asian governments have authorized that you be shot on site. If you fail to obey the restrictions set before you, you will not enjoy the results, Mr. Becket.”

***

“You didn’t have time to contact the UN, or the majority of European and Asian governments,” Herc says quietly as he and the Marshall lead Raleigh’s father to the medical ward.

“He doesn’t have to know that.”

“Damn right he doesn’t.”

***

“He even looks like an asshole,” Dr. Quinn says to Mako as Herc and Pentecost lead the man into the room.

“I would liken him to Adolf Hitler,” Mako answers, “but that would be a disgrace to German heritage.”

_“Damn.”_

***

Chuck and Raleigh are talking about Avis’ education of all things when someone knocks on the door. They’ve seated themselves on the only bed, and gotten comfortable; they’re pushed against each other, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee. Chuck keeps touching him, brushing their fingers, a hand on the knee, and Raleigh knows a comfort tactic when he’s on the receiving end of one, but he lets it continue, let’s the attention distract him from the situation. He knows he must be pale from the look of worry and aggravation that passes over the other Ranger’s face.

“It’s open,” Chuck says, taking away whatever excuse Raleigh could come up with to back out.

Herc enters first, and he performs the same visual comb over that Chuck directs Avis’s way he thinks she might be hurt; it’s an action that mean a lot to Raleigh. The Marshall is obviously completely displeased with the situation, but the American knows that if not now, then never.

His father stinks of the same brand of Grade-A jackass that he did when the asshole walked out on him and his brother and sister and mom. He reeks of self-importance, radiates general malcontent. He’s tall and blond, and Raleigh hates that he reminds him so much of Yancy.

“Raleigh,” he says. “It’s been a long time, son.”

“It’s been a long time for a reason, Grant.”

Raleigh has thought about this moment before, thought about the kind of hatred this man stirs up, how much he would like to take a baseball bat to his old man’s head. This isn’t anything he’s imagined before. His anger is cold, cold enough to still whatever fire had been brewing. This is the man who walked out on his family after years of abuse when he found out his wife was dying of lung cancer. This is the man Raleigh and Yancy feared would be the end of their little sister. This is the man who Raleigh was determined not to follow.

“Don’t be like that, kid. It’s been too long since you’ve seen your old man. Your mother wouldn’t have liked this attitude, you know.”

“Mom’s dead,” Raleigh says flatly. “So are Yancy and Jazmine.”

Grant Becket rolls his eyes so hard Raleigh thinks one good swing could have knocked them both from their sockets.

“Should have known you’d still be stuck on that,” he says.

“What do you want, Grant?” Raleigh asks, and he’s pretty sure he’s only so far from just being done.

“Wanted to see my boy, that a sin?”

“I wanted to see you at Mom’s funeral. At Jazmine’s, too,” Raleigh says. He can feel the line of heat from Chuck pressed against his side, can see the Marchall and Herc standing by him, and he feels better than he has in a long time. “I didn’t bother to look for you at Yancy’s.”

The older Becket narrows his eyes.

“If you’ve got something to say, boy, say it.”

“Get out.”

It’s a delicate interruption to the atmosphere stewing in the room. Mako has crowded in behind Grant Becket, making full use of what little height and weight she has. The fire in her eyes isn’t cool like Raleigh’s; it’s bright and new and oh so hot. She’s seen what this man had done to her partner, to _her_ Raleigh, and she is in no mood to stand his presence any longer.

“Excuse me?” Grant Becket says. “Where the fuck does some pinty little gint like you come off as giving me orders?”

“Hey!” Raleigh yells, but it’s Chuck that beats the rest of the room to the man. Whatever training he’s had pounded into him over years, Chuck uses to the best of his advantage. He just as tall, but lighter, than the other man, and he’s learned to use what weight he’s got to leverage larger opponents. By the time he’s done, a simple twist would break the elbow and remove the ball joint from its place in shoulder cradle.

“I do believe the lady told you it was time to go,” Chuck growls.

“Get him out of here,” Raleigh says quietly. “I’m done with him.”

***

Avis passes by Chuck and crawls into the space under Raleigh’s good arm. She’s dressed in her duck pajamas again and is holding a plush Gypsy Danger. Chuck continues to go about his nightly routine, straightening his and Raleigh’s bunk and making sure that Avis hasn’t snuck another gamepod under her pillow. He keeps an eye on them though. Raleigh is propped up on their pillows, _Fahrenheit 451_ cradled in one hand. Avis is making good use of him as a pillow.  


“Grandpa Herc says yer dad’s an ass’ole,” Avis says suddenly.

Raleigh twitches, pretty violently actually, but Avis holds onto him. It’s Chuck that has to say something about her language.

“Avis Oswyn Feeley. I know you did not just swear out loud.”

“Grandpa Herc said it,” she says in her defense. “’Sides, he is.”

“And how would you come to that conclusion?” Chuck asks.

“Tendo an’ me was watchin’ you guys on th’ video feed.”

“Goddmanit, Tendo,” Chuck hisses.

“’M glad he’s gone,” Avis says to Raleigh while Chuck is busy fuming.

“Me, too, Avis.”

***

On day fifty-two, Dr. Quinn takes Raleigh’s casts off. He’ll probably have to keep the pins she put in for the rest of his life, but if he’s honest with himself, he likes the way they can be seen just under his skin; they’ll serve him as a reminder of what he and the others have done, and he’ll look back on it as the most accomplished day of his life. But these things occur to him after he and Chuck spend a few days in bed.

***

On day fifty-four Raleigh and Chuck are arguing in the commissary. They haven’t had a knock-down-drag-out since before they closed the Breach, but this doesn’t seem like what would start a new one either. They’ve talked about it on and off for days, bouncing ideas off of Herc and Mako and Marshall Pentecost. The Kaidonovskys and Weis offer their opinions, but they are all ridiculous and outlandish and they don’t pay much attention to them anyway.

“It would be good for her,” Raleigh says.

“She’d eat them alive,” Chuck insists.

“Yeah, and then they’d move her up a few grade levels. She’s smarter than the Shattterdome’s tutors can handle, Chuck. She needs something to challenge her.”

"I am not sending her off to the middle of Hong Kong to attend some school that’s probably not even up to snuff.”

Raleigh groans at the same time Herc takes a seat at the table.

“Still arguing about it?” he asks.

“Nothing to argue about,” Chuck says.

“Well here’s something to chew on: Marshall’s moving the PPDC HQ back to Sydney.”

Chuck perks up.

“Are you serious, old man?”

“Don’t bloody call me that,” Herc says with a dark look in his eyes.

“Are we goddamn going home?” Chuck insists.

“If I don’t leave you here for my own sake of mind,” Herc says wearily. “You’ll have a whole new education system to pick through.”

Chuck grins, “Braxton-Parish.”

“Oh hell,” Herc says. “She’d eat them alive.”

“Exactly,” Chuck says. “Besides, best goddamn private school in Sydney.”

“What the fuck does she need a private school for?” Raleigh asks. “Private school kids don’t turn out so well in the States.”

“That’s the States, Becket,” Chuck says. “This is the Hansen alma mater.”

**Author's Note:**

> (1) _Fahrenheit 451_ , page 39
> 
> Let me know what you guys thought.


End file.
